Jesus Emilio Tuberquia discusses fighting for peace and defying the worldwide "Death Project"

Jesus Emilio

Jesús Emilio Tuberquia is a short, wiry man with bronzed skin and sober, piercing eyes. Yet, behind his stoic gaze rests a kind and almost humorous twinkle. Standing in the Colombian’s presence, and hearing his message of non-violence, it doesn’t take long to see that he is a man with an immense heart. Many of us care about people. Many are concerned about social ills and denounce injustice. But most of us would be lying to say we have his strength. Most of us could not even begin to imitate his courage. Preaching non-violence doesn’t mean that you are willing to die in the name of peace. Jesús Emilio, however, is willing — and ready.

In 1997 he helped establish the Nobel-Prize nominated San José de Apartadó Peace Community in northwest Columbia. Jesús Emilio and about 800 other mestizo peasants and farmers in the war-torn South American nation declared their territory a neutral civilian community. With this act of non-violent defiance, they refused to pick up arms, or provide armed groups (including the Colombian military and police) with information or support.

As a consequence, in more than a decade, the community, now numbering about 1,000, has endured massacres, kidnappings, unjust imprisonment, torture, rape, robberies and economic embargo at the hands of various armed groups, especially the Columbian military and police. More than 170 members of the community have disappeared since San José de Apartadó was founded.

Jesús Emilio, 48, serves as a legal representative for the community. The role places him in the scope of those who would respond to non-violent resistance with bombs, bullets and machetes.

He hails from a family of farmers. He says his father “was a lover of the land,” who was passionate about social justice, detested violence — and instilled that same fire in his son.

“True violence is that which happens when people don’t have access to education, health, employment or land,” Jesús Emilio says. “War itself and weapons is something that will happen afterwards.”


Columbia has endured more than four decades of civil war, with actors on all sides, whether it's been guerrillas on the Left, paramilitary groups on the right, or the Colombian state itself, contributing to violence that has displaced millions and resulted in hundreds of thousands of deaths.

 The people suffering the most in this ordeal are typically the poorest and most vulnerable groups in the country. Those are the type of people living in San José de Apartadó. 

Jesús Emilio came to Chicago on April 18 and 19 for roundtable discussions and a public lecture about San José de Apartadó’s ongoing struggle. I had the opportunity to sit down with Jesús Emilio and interview him with the help of Loyola professor Elizabeth Lozano, who served as a translator.

What makes you think that a peace community such as yours is a viable way to bring change?

For those of us who struggle within the community, we think it is viable. For us it is very important as members of the community to actually have the true, real experience of another form of system that is different from what is the normal or general system, which is truly a system of death.

*Lozano explained to me that to Jesús Emilio  and other Colombians on the Left, the Death Project, or System of Death, refers to the worldwide system of capitalism, which they allege has disproportionately benefitted the wealthy while causing suffering and death amongst the poor and peasant populations of the world.While I don't personally believe in all instances that capitalism is a system of death, I can agree that many lives have been ruined or lost because more value was placed on profit than on the value of human lives--especially in the 3rd world. And let's face it, the U.S. government, and U.S. corporations, have put money in the hands of people and entities who are responsible for horrible human rights abuses. So don't be surprised that a South American farmer views the Western vehicle for economic development as a sinister device. But let's get back to the show, folks...*

It’s to try to let humanity understand that there is an alternative to the Death Project. It is possible to create a society without injustice in which human rights will be respected.

Why do they join your community?

I believe they have joined because of a sense of struggling for the lives of other human beings. And because they have been victims of social injustice and the power of weapons.

Why then are peaceful people seen as a threat, as people to be slaughtered?

Because to the System of Death, it is offensive that there will be a proposal for a culture for peace.

Can you define this System of Death for me?

The system of death is a system that doesn’t care about the life of human beings and is determined by money. So it is a society working within a system that is determined by money. A society where every single individual has been somewhat told that a piece of paper with numbers on it is more important than millions of human lives.

Who is benefitting from this system of death?

The great economic powers of the world, and the corporations.

Can you name some of those entities?

The economies of Europe, the United States and China. Multinationals. As well as politicians from different states.

*Lozano took a moment to mention briefly one of those multinationals, Chiquita Brands International. After a little research I found that the company has been under fire from a number of groups because of alleged involvement with violent paramilitary groups. Check this out!.*

Has the United States’ role in Columbia been in the interests of the peasants, or the bigger powers such as the government, military or corporations?

The U.S. has a big role to play in the Columbian war, because it’s actually the U.S.  that provides the weapons, airplanes, the bombs, and the training of militaries in Columbia. Basically, the U.S is a big designer of wars in the world. Not all wars, but a lot of the wars of the world are designed by the United States. The United States also has played a big role in the state of poverty of many developing countries.

*Note: The U.S. has contributed billions of dollars to Colombia through the last several decades, and more than $6 billion since the year 2000 — despite cries that it is the Colombian state itself that perpetuates much of the violence against the lower classes, and despite substantial reasons to believe that the military there is sometimes in cahoots with right-wing groups who terrorize the peasant population.*

I want to get back to talking about the peace community. Tell me, what are the threats to the community?

Where to start…

The threat is the physical extermination of the members of the community.

By who?

By the Colombian state. The other threat is the expropriation of all of the lands of the people of the community and other adjacent peasants.

How does the state act violent toward the community?

Against us, all forms of violence that you can apply against a human being have been applied.

For example?

Massacres, disappearances, selected deaths, threats, torture, robberies, false accusations, unjust imprisonment, economic embargo, rape.

How do you respond to the violence in a constructive way?

Against injustice what we have to do is justice. So when there is injustice against human beings we need to do what is just to human beings.

Such as?

Helping people without food, land, health. If they are in danger of death, protect them. If they have no job, help them find a job.

Do you walk around in your day-to-day life with the fear of dying in this conflict?

Well, sometimes one will feel fear or be anxious, but one must control one’s self and seek a way of keeping our minds busy with some other things.

What do you do specifically to exist without having that constant fear?

I think that the life in the community is the best therapy. Just participating in the life of the community and being in the community that’s there.

Do you have hope that you’ll see peace in Columbia in your lifetime?

No. I will not see that. No, the country is not going to change. The country is going to get worse and worse. The only peace I will know is the peace I will have in not being a part of the war. But I don’t see that, that peace is going to happen in the country.

How likely do you think it is that you will ultimately die because of all of this?

That’s what I weigh every day. Minute to minute. I am very clear that I am offering my life for the sake of many people. It can happen any day.

But what would be wrong with saying, I’ve had enough, I’m walking away?

The issue is not the value of my life. The issue is the value of a human society and the value of teaching a human society that it is possible to live outside of the Project of Death. That there is an alternative. And that peace is constructed exactly where you are — you don’t have to go seek it anywhere else. In the city, in the university, in any place, we can create the experience of peace and reject the practice of the Project of Death. In the U.S. as well as Europe, China and also in Colombia, it is a matter of one making a decision to stand for an alternative that is peaceful, or an alternative that is violent.

Author’s Note

I left that interview feeling very impotent. There I was, a self-righteous college student at a university (Loyola University Chicago) that preaches social justice, speaking to a man who was actually in the trenches, fighting for many of the same exact things I believed in.  Jesús Emilio could be dead at any moment for his cause. All I was doing was writing. However, what I’m able to do is pass his words along to anyone willing to read them here, with the hope that they might help you cast your eyes and hearts toward struggles ordinary people are facing in a volatile part of the world. Then, consider how massive a problem violence is for humankind, period. It’s not just in Colombia. And after you do that, I ask that you take a look inside. Because as Jesús Emilio told me, “It is a matter of one making a decision to stand for an alternative that is peaceful, or an alternative that is violent.”

Where do you stand? And will you stand silent?

Through the eyes of a refugee: violence on two continents

The Republic of the Congo Coat of Arms

After more than two decades of tempestuous politics fueled by Marxist-Leninist rhetoric and an authoritarian regime, the Republic of the Congo transitioned to a multi-party democracy in 1992. That's when the African nation elected a new president in professor Pascal Lissouba.

Yet, things were far from peachy for the former French colony. Lissouba had defeated Denis Sassaou-Nguesso, the previous ruler since 1979, but it wasn’t long before the country would erupt in civil strife. Lissouba dissolved the National Assembly in 1992 and called for new elections in 1993, sparking violent unrest before the dispute was squashed by international mediators. That wasn’t the end: The democratic process would once again come to a violent, screeching halt in 1997. With presidential elections slated for July, tensions between the Lissouba and Sassou-Nguesso camps escalated.

The country plunged into a two-year-long civil war that displaced hundreds of thousands of people. The impact of that cataclysm has had lasting effects on the region and is still rippling through the rest of the world because of the refugees that fled the country fearing for their lives.

What follows is an account from one of those displaced people, a man to be referred to only as Joseph, because of privacy issues. The 42-year-old Congolese refugee isn’t living a glamorous life by any stretch of the imagination. When I interviewed him for an academic research project in April 2011, he was working for a janitorial service and living in a humble, somewhat cramped Rogers Park studio apartment with his 32-year-old wife, referred to here as Patrice. But ask Joseph and he'll tell you just how grateful he is.

This is a story about lessons harvested from harrowing times.

When home isn’t home

[I left the Congo] because I couldn’t accept the things I was seeing with my eyes… it was the best time for me to leave. Otherwise, I would die. Because of my situation, my security was a problem … I was in a political party [the Pan-African Union for Social Democracy]. After [Sassou-Nguesso] took the power, his people were chasing people who were in the party of the professor Pascal Lissouba [who I supported]. My life was in danger because of those people who were killing people … One day I was on a train, this was in 1998; I was riding a train from Pointe-Noire, to Diosso. We arrived at Makoua. Makoua is a place where there is a camp for new soldiers... I got off of the train and sat down near the train to [get] some air. And one soldier came in front of me and asked, 'Please, show me your ID.' I told him that my ID was in my bag in the train. I said, 'Let me go in the train and get my ID to show to you.'

He said, 'No.'
He said, 'I know you. You were a soldier of the professor Pascal Lissouba.'
I told him [my ID] was in the train. And he said 'No. Show me your ID.'

I [stood] up, and I was just in front of the door to go to the train, but he stepped in front of me and blocked my way to go back to the train.  

And I say to him — 'You are a soldier. I think your duty is to save people. And everything belongs to the people. The thing you are going to do is not your duty. The thing you are saying is not your duty.'

And at that point he just put his two hands inside my pocket. One hand in the left pocket and one hand in the other pocket. And he pulls out everything I have in my pocket. Money, keys, everything out. And he just took all the money I had, and just gave back the keys and my papers.
 
I said, 'This is my country, Congo?' To see people like this. To have people like this. This is a dream. I am dreaming or what? His friends came. They were smoking. And when the friends arrived… they asked him, 'What happened with this guy?' He talked to this other soldier and said, 'This guy, he was a soldier of Pascal Lissouba!'

They took a cigarette … and they put the fire on me like this...

Joseph raised one of his forearms to show me where he had been burned. His eyes broadened in outrage and a painful grimace contorted his face.  It was as if he was standing outside that train in Makou, feeling the pain anew.

I was dreaming. It was a dream for me.

I forced my way away and found a way to go back to the train. And at that point, one police was on the train. And when the soldiers saw him, then they left. The police asked me what happened and I explained everything to the police. He said, 'Oh, I’m sorry.'

I didn’t have anything [I could] do. It is very difficult; you are living in a country and soldiers are treating people of the country like that. I condemn that kind of habit. So I went to Benin, and then to Gabon, and then I came here.    

What happened from my experience living in Congo is that now… I know that violence is no good. Taking the power in the country, using guns, is not a good thing. Because still now we have trouble in my country. We don’t have freedom of speech. It is a dictatorship, we don’t have rights. But here in the United States, it’s different.

Every time I see in a country [that] people try to use violence to get the power to control the country, I condemn it. It’s no good. I was telling [people in Benin], please don’t choose violence. If you need to become president — if you need to become president — do the election in the peaceful way… You have to negotiate, and you have to talk to each other. You know, in enough of Africa, like Tunisia and Egypt, the people they were ready to kick out the president because of the dictatorships. And maybe, in Congo, we are ready for a demonstration.

Maybe. I don’t know.
 
From violence to violence

I have to say that we have to build safe.

People have to build safe — if they can. I accepted to come here. But before coming here, first, I know that, in the United States, there is a lot of violence. When I was living in Congo, I was reading in the newspaper… all the time they kill people in the United States. But I accepted to come here because of the freedom of speech … Since I have been living in Chicago, I [haven’t seen yet] … somebody acting with guns against another person. But I heard a lot of stories from my friends about violence in the United States, especially in Chicago. For me, I know where to put my legs. I’m living in North Side, but it’s not like all North Side places are secure… Sometimes when I sleep and I wake up around 3 a.m., I hear some shots. Some shots coming from a far place. But I can’t tell if the shot was from police or gang. I don’t know who did that. I couldn’t have guessed. [In some ways] the violence in the United States is more than in Congo. Because citizens here have guns. Sometimes they do it for no reason, or because of drugs. They kill people for no reason. It’s so easy.

I recently read in a newspaper here, two police were arrested. Why? Because they met with one lady in downtown. The two police mated the lady and asked the lady if they can help her, something like that, to bring her to her home. But what happened next is, the police took the lady inside the car and one police officer was driving. And the other police abused the lady inside the police car. And that shocked me. And when they arrived at the apartment of the lady, what happened next? The other police abused the lady inside her apartment.  (Note: A few of the details of Joseph's retelling of what allegedly happened are slightly off, plus the case is ongoing, so click here to read news coverage of the incident, and see the video above for more insight.)


That is violence against the people. That is here. I’m living here, and I’m still watching a situation like that… Each of us as human beings… we have to fight for justice for every people in this country. Regarding jobs. Regarding school. Regarding everything. We need to fight. We need equality for everyone. And we have to fight violence.

Author's Note

I interviewed Joseph on a misty, gray, drizzling Sunday afternoon in April. A mutual friend, RedEye intern Jessica Cilella, accompanied me. At the time, we both worked for The Loyola Phoenix, where I was editor-in-chief from May 2010 to May 2011.

Joseph and his wife Patrice welcomed us into their humble abode with a warmth that, I can say from my own experience, can only be achieved by people who have been through cruel times and escaped with hearts intact. Plenty of people are left embittered, fragile and afraid. Their hardships break them; They end up shells of their former selves -- living, breathing specters darkened by their own suffering. You can almost feel the shadows of their past angst swirling about them. Sometimes it's hard to tell the living from the dead, as Ed Winters once sang.

But then there are those souls who emerge from their trials with more vitality and courage than before. Their survival is proof that men and women can transcend the malevolent powers that be, that good can outlast evil. For those people, like Joseph and Patrice, the light of optimism illuminates them. There is nothing quite like being around a survivor and basking in that spirit.

I want to dedicate this posting to Joseph and his wonderful, ever-smiling wife Patrice. They are truly blessed. I pray the universe grants the same fortune to the millions of displaced people seeking refuge on this violent, mixed-up planet.

The Daley administration's Wi-Fi lie

The Watchdogs over at the Chicago Sun-Times are at it again, bringing to light in their latest report that former Mayor Richard Daley’s son Patrick Daley profited from a 2006 deal that brought Wi-Fi to O’Hare Airport. The report shows that claims from the Daley administration that Patrick had no financial stake in the transaction were bogus.

As a cynical friend commented to me this morning after I read her the headline, “The windfalls of corruption continue to blow,” in Chicago.

Here’s an expert from the article

“For years, City Hall maintained that Mayor Richard M. Daley’s son, Patrick Daley, had no financial stake in the deal that brought wireless Internet service to city-owned O’Hare Airport and Midway Airport.

But it turns out that the younger Daley still reaped a windfall of $708,999 when Concourse Communications was sold in 2006, less than a year after the Chicago company signed the multimillion-dollar Wi-Fi contract with his father’s administration, company documents obtained by the Chicago Sun-Times show.”

Patrick served as a “middleman who lined up investors for concourse” according to the Sun-Times.  The paper reported that he received several payments following completion of the deal. Shortly after the last of those payments, a Daley press secretary claimed that Patrick “has no financial interest with the Wi-Fi contract at O’Hare.”

An apparent lie.

I have a feeling local journalists will be digging many more skeletons out of Daley’s closet as the years pass.

Read the full story here.